


Adam the Accidental Blaine-Sitter

by shamelessly_mkp



Category: Glee
Genre: Age Play, Gen, Mild Kink, Non-Sexual Age Play, Non-Sexual Kink, Other, kink themes, oops they accidentally kink?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-14
Updated: 2014-04-14
Packaged: 2018-01-19 10:20:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1465816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shamelessly_mkp/pseuds/shamelessly_mkp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It was an accident, of course. Just one of those funny things that happens."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Adam the Accidental Blaine-Sitter

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS: This is a story about accidental age-play - since it’s accidental, there’s a certain lack of informed consent going on. I don’t think it’d be triggering at all, but wanted to flag it for folks just in case.
> 
> ADDITIONAL NOTE: Not a part of the Baby Kinksters ‘verse, nor in the same universe as my daddy!kink fic. It may or may not be in the same universe as my intended future non-sexual ageplay klaine fics; idk.

It was an accident, of course. Just one of those funny things that happens.

There were a hundred other universes where the day went just slightly differently — Adam didn’t run into Kurt panicking about having an emergency rehearsal halfway across town and three different bags of  _stuff_ ; Adam didn’t miss the first train and so got to Kurt and Blaine’s apartment a good hour earlier, before Blaine got home; Adam got there and realized Kurt’s keys were in his back pocket and caused a small commotion trying to juggle all those bags  _and_ unlock the door, catching Blaine’s attention from what Kurt sometimes called the parlor in that specific tone of his, the one that Adam still (after two years of friendship!) couldn’t tell if Kurt used when joking or when in complete earnest.

(It was always a bit awkward when Adam was hanging out with Kurt and Blaine was around - that whole “I-dated-your-boyfriend-and-love-of-your-life-because-you-were-an-absolute-idiot-and-would-still-hit-that-if-given-half-a-chance-but-it’s-not-going-to-happen-and-we’re-probably-better-off-friends” thing — but Adam had to admit, it was useful to have a kurtometer, so to speak.)

There were all kind of ways it could have gone differently, but it didn’t.

 

Adam hadn’t even realized Blaine was at home when he first started unloading himself of all of Kurt’s stuff, good god, what exactly was the man carrying around, anyway, bricks? but Blaine’s startled gasp and rushed rustling weren’t exactly inconspicuous, so Adam turned to face him with a wince.

"Sorry, didn’t mean to startle-”

Adam broke off for a moment, unsure of what it was he was seeing, exactly. Crayons littered the floor, along with a few toy cars and - Adam squinted - was that a stuffed animal awkwardly wedged under the sofa in some hurried attempt at concealment? Yes, it was. A bear, maybe? Or a dog? It was hard to tell. A coloring book was open on the floor, with several others haphazardly stacked nearby.

Amidst it all was Kurt’s boyfriend, looking up at him with wide, shocked eyes. No, not shocked, not exactly - scared, startled,  _betrayed_ , maybe. He was frozen in place, mid gather; the sloppy start of a pile painting a clear picture of someone trying their best to hustle secrets out of sight.

“Didn’t mean to startle you,” Adam said again, slowly, trying to sound as normal as possible, as though it were completely ordinary to find your ex’s boyfriend coloring. Which - okay, it was strange, admittedly, but it wasn’t like the man was sacrificing goats in his spare time, or whatever. So he liked coloring, apparently. So what? “I wasn’t expecting anyone to be home; Kurt said you had class till almost 6."

“It got cancelled.” Blaine looked down at his coloring book and back up at Adam. “I was just. I wasn't doing - This is -”

He was stammering, stumbling, more unsure of himself than Adam had ever seen, and it was almost heartbreaking to see him wave a valiantly dismissive hand at the worn, dog-eared coloring book splayed open like a secret on the floor between them. He looked so frightened and frantic and the words were still tripping out of him, tumbling over themselves as he clearly tried and tried to find a way to explain what Adam had so accidentally uncovered.

It was hard to watch, and Adam found himself looking away on reflex, to give the man some privacy. He cast about for something to say that would break the tension, set Blaine at ease. His eyes fell on the coloring book again, the boldly outlined picture suddenly coalescing into something defined and recognizable, something  _real_ and Adam felt a rush of relief as suddenly he knew exactly what to say.

“Hey, is that a Batman coloring book? That's pretty cool. Can I see?”

Blaine stopped mid-word, confusion and suspicion warring on his face.

“Can I see?” Adam repeated, more sure of himself now.

Blaine bit his lip and his eyes flicked from Adam to the the wall to the floor, not saying a word. The guarded caution on his face made Adam’s heart ache, but he carefully kept any sign of it from his face, not wanting Blaine to mistake it for pity, or worse, instead kneeling down to gently pick up Blaine’s art. “No, hey, these are great!” He praised, looking through the book. It wasn’t a lie, either - Blaine had clearly taken great care with every picture. “You’re really good at staying inside the lines,” he added, noting only the slightest of stray marks here and there.

He’d hoped the compliments would make Blaine relax a little, let him realize that really, it was okay, that Adam wasn’t going to tease or taunt, but although a shyly pleased look flashed across his face, Blaine remained entirely on guard, still looking at Adam with suspicion.

“Why are you  _here?_ ”

“Just dropping a few things off for Kurt,” he said easily, carefully closing the coloring book and holding it forward in offering.

Blaine looked at it, biting his lip again, but didn’t take the bait, though he clearly wanted to.

“Why?” he demanded, voice high and anxious and strangely young sounding. “He’s coming home soon anyway. It’s almost six o’ clock. He always comes home at six o'clock on Thursdays.”

“Not tonight, I’m afraid,” Adam said slowly, worried by the almost frantic edge to Blaine’s voice on those last words. He placed the rejected coloring book gently back on the floor.

Blaine frowned. “No, he comes back at six o’clock. That’s when his class ends. Kurt always comes back at six o’clock on Thursdays.”

His voice got louder and higher as he spoke, almost verging on the hysterical.

Adam tried to calm him down by example, keeping his own voice low and level as he began to explain, but Blaine wouldn’t listen.

“He  _always_ comes home at six o'clock on Thursdays.  _Always_ .”

“Yes, but something came up, so he's not -”

“You’re  _wrong_ , he wouldn’t just  _not come home_ , it’s  _Thursday_ , he’s supposed to be here -”

Adam wasn’t getting anywhere, and Blaine was starting to really worry him. He looked around, hoping for some sort of answer, and spotted Blaine’s phone on the couch. “Here, this is your phone, isn’t it?” He swiped it to turn the screen on, then showed the notification on it to Blaine. “See? Kurt sent you a message.”

Blaine read it, then looked back up at Adam with an accusatory glare, as if Adam must be to blame. “But he’s  _supposed_ to be home at  _six_ .”

Adam spoke as gently and as soothingly as he could. “I know, but he's going to be a bit late.”

Blaine still looked utterly betrayed. He hugged himself.

Adam watched for a moment, frowning. He’d meant to just drop Kurt’s stuff off on his way to his own place. He thought about going home to the empty mess of his flat, to the bland taste of leftover ramen and the white noise of bad infomercials. And he thought about leaving Blaine by himself for a lonely night of waiting for Kurt to come home -- thought about leaving  _this_ Blaine by himself -- this softer, somehow smaller version.

“You know,” Adam said, trying to sound casually off-hand, “I was just going to go home and eat whatever junk I could scrounge up for dinner and bore myself to sleep... Would it be a terrible imposition if I hung out here instead?”

Blaine cocked his head to look up at him, wary, like this must be some kind of trap.

He looked young and suspicious and still just a little betrayed, and Adam knew there was no way he could just leave the boy now -  _man_ , Blaine was a man, not a boy; it didn’t matter how big his eyes were or how tightly he curled in on himself.

“I'd cook dinner as a thank you,” Adam offered.

Blaine bit his lip, indecisive. “I guess that'd be okay,” he said at last.

Adam clapped his hands together in satisfaction. “Great! Are you hungry now? Because i'm starving.”

 

***

 

There wasn’t a lot to work with - “Friday is grocery day,” Blaine had informed him, face solemn - but they at least had bread and cheese and tomato, and Adam even managed to find a can of creamy tomato soup hiding in the back of one of the cupboards.

Cheese toasties it was, then.

“What’s a cheese toastie?” Blaine asked.

“You’d call it a grilled cheese," Adam replied absently, getting the soup started heating and assembling a proper assembly line of ingredients for the sandwiches.

 “Why would you call a grilled cheese a _toastie_?” Blaine wanted to know, voice slightly scornful. “You don’t use a _toaster_.”

 “Why would you call it a grilled cheese, then?” Adam shot back lightly. “You don’t use a _grill_.”

 “Because -” Blaine stopped. This had clearly never occurred to him.

 Adam fought a smile. He’d had the same conversation with one of his American nephews a few years back, right down to the same childish inflections of complete authority. “Tomato?” He asked.

 “Yes, please,” Blaine said, watching from the table. “And goldfish too, please?”

 “Goldfish?”

 “To make it crunch.”

 Adam raised an eyebrow, but shrugged agreeably. “You’ll have to get it out for me, but I don’t see why not.”

 There was a small flurry of activity, and then a small box of goldfish was shoved triumphantly into Adam’s face.

 “I found it,” Blaine announced, unnecessarily.

 “So you did,” Adam agreed, taking the proffered crackers.

 Blaine scooted back out of the way without Adam even having to ask; the kitchen was really only big enough for one.

 “Can I have them in my soup too, please?”

 “Those are some lovely manners you’re using,” Adam found himself saying approvingly, just as he might have told a child. “Yes you may.”

 He stopped mid-stir, worried he’d overstepped. Blaine might be acting somewhat like a child, but he was still very much a grown man, and grown men didn’t tend to take well to being condescended to.

 He could see Blaine smiling shyly just out of the corner of his eye, though, clearly pleased with the praise.

 “Kurt says sometimes I’m _too_ polite,” Blaine informed him. “He still likes my manners though.”

 “Well, they are very nice manners,” Adam said, flipping the first sandwich. “Oh, good, the soup’s hot,” he added, noticing that it’d started to simmer.

 “I can set the table,” Blaine volunteered, starting toward the cupboards.

 “I was actually thinking we could skip the table and eat on the couch, put on a movie of some kind.” Adam had noticed more than a few Batman and Superman DVDs stacked next to the TV. Blaine needed distracting, that much was clear - every time their conversation lapsed, Adam could see him start to get upset all over again.

 “Kurt never lets us eat on the couch,” Blaine said, sounding shocked. “Not on _Thursdays_.”

 There was that strange emphasis on Thursday again, like there was some special meaning behind the word Adam ought to understand. Adam didn’t know what that was about, but he didn’t think it mattered, either. Clearly it was something private between the two of them.

 “Well,” Adam said, getting out plates and bowls himself and starting to serve, “I’m not Kurt, am I?”

 “But what if we make a mess?” Blaine’s voice was worried, but Adam could tell he was half-way talked into it already. He glanced at Blaine covertly, taking in the way his eyes were sparkling. The idea of such a rebellion was clearly exciting.

 Adam carefully bit back a smile before replying cheerfully. “We’ll just have to be very very careful then, won’t we?”

 

 ***

  

Adam was a little surprised when Blaine passed on the superhero movies, but was happy enough to put on the Disney film Blaine had tried so very hard to pretend he didn’t want to watch.

(It had taken a little bit of sneakiness on Adam’s part, but making believe that _he_ was the one with the burning desire to watch Tangled was hardly the silliest thing he’d ever done, and it had been completely worth it to see the way Blaine’s face lit up, even though he’d obviously been trying to play it cool.)

They were almost all settled in when Adam first noticed the way Blaine kept fidgeting and glancing over to the side of the room. He couldn’t tell what the matter was, so he didn’t say anything - just kept a careful eye out to see if he could figure it out.

Blaine stopped fidgeting when Adam handed him his food, distracted first by the way the goldfish floated in his soup (Adam had had to fight hard not to start laughing at Blaine’s obvious delight, since he was fairly certain the man would think he was making fun if he did. It was just - _cute_ was the only word that came to mind.), and then by the first big song of the movie, clearly one of his favorites.

If this - whatever it was - was a Thursday tradition, Adam could see why Kurt insisted on dinner being at the table on Thursday nights. It was just luck Blaine hadn’t knocked over his nearly empty soup bowl when he first started laughing at Pascal’s antics. Adam had quickly cleared the dishes away after that, but Blaine had already shamefacedly withdrawn into his corner of the couch, quiet in apology.

Blaine’s glances away grew longer and more frequent, wistful. A nervous look at Adam always followed - just a flicker before he returned his attention firmly to the film - until his gaze started wandering to the side of the room again.

It took a while, but finally Adam realized what it was Blaine kept looking at - the same toy bear he’d noticed earlier. It wasn’t really surprising it had taken him so long to see it, not with just the dim glow of the television acting as a light. The soft brown of its fur had blended right in with the pattern of the chair it was stuffed behind - which was probably why Blaine had shoved it back there in the first place, come to think of it.

The fidgeting took on a whole new meaning as Adam noticed for the first time the way Blaine’s fingers kept flexing and twisting - like he wanted to grab at something but was holding himself back. Though he was drawn up in almost a ball, curled up comfortably in the cushions of the couch, his shoulders were tight with tension.

It was almost heartbreaking, really, and Adam wasn’t about to just sit there and watch Blaine miserably deny himself a form of comfort he clearly desperately wanted.

Calling attention to the matter directly wouldn’t help any, though - if anything, that would make Blaine  _more_ defensive, the stubborn little bugger. He couldn’t just come right out and tell Blaine to stop being ridiculous and to get the stuffed toy if he wanted it.

He’d have to come at it sideways, then. That was fine; Adam could do sideways.

He’d needed to use the restroom, anyway.

On his way back to his seat, Adam paused, faking surprise. “What’s this?” he said, crouching down to pull out the animal (which on closer inspection was indeed a bear).

Blaine’s eyes were wide and alarmed as Adam frowned disapprovingly. “That’s not on, sitting behind a chair like that,” Adam said, pretending not to see Blaine’s reaction and speaking directly to the bear itself. “How are you supposed to watch the movie from back there?”

“It’s just a toy,” Blaine said, shakily dismissive. “It can’t  _watch_ anything.” His voice was a pale imitation of scorn.

Adam let himself make a sharply indignant sound and covered the bear’s ears, as though it could hear their conversation. “Bite your tongue,” he said. “Do you want to hurt -” Adam paused. He didn’t know the toy’s name.

“Mister Bear,” Blaine muttered quietly.

“Do you want to hurt Mister Bear’s feelings?” Adam continued.

“It’s not  _real_ ,” Blaine said. “It doesn’t have  _feelings_ .”

“Oh?” Adam said, raising an eyebrow and holding the bear carefully on his hip, like it were a small child. “And how would  _you_ like it if someone said  _you_ weren’t real?”

Decisively he placed the toy on Blaine’s lap, arranging the bear so that it could ‘see’ the TV.

“There,” Adam said, sitting back down next to Blaine with a not-entirely put on air of satisfaction. “That’s much better. No furniture in the way now.”

He pretended not to notice the way Blaine was still watching him suspiciously, nor the way Blaine had seemingly unconsciously started to pet at the soft fur.

“Now, what did I miss?”

 

***

 

It took most of the rest of the movie, but Blaine finally relaxed enough to openly cuddle into his toy - better still, he’d actually tentatively cuddled up against _Adam_ , leaning into him more and more as the night grew later, every so often interrupting the movie to ask when Kurt would be home.

As time went by, his interruptions had gotten more plaintively childish. Several times Adam had thought he might even be on the verge of tears, but luckily the film had always fortuitously provided a timely distraction.

He’d slid further down, too - from leaning against Adam’s shoulder, to cuddling into his side, to finally curling up on the couch completely, head in Adam’s lap.

It would’ve been awkward in any other circumstance, and maybe it still should have been.

Somehow, though, it wasn’t, and Adam found himself absently stroking the other man’s hair.

He stopped immediately, somewhat mortified, but Blaine made a unhappy sound and butted his head against Adam’s hand insistently until Adam resumed the rhythmic motion.

Blaine’s eyes stayed fixed on the TV, but Adam could see him blinking sleepily every so often. Mister Bear was cuddled up close in Blaine’s arms, head tucked up under Blaine’s chin and facing out so he too could watch Rapunzel’s adventure.

Blaine was quiet as the credits played, not even laughing at the ending voice-over. He just rubbed his face against the stuffed toy’s fur, looking sadly distant.

“Kurt come home now?” he asked, quietly, not looking up.

“Not just yet, love,” Adam said, matching Blaine’s low tones and resolutely not commenting on the childish phrasing. “Soon.”

Blaine’s sigh was one of resigned disappointment.

“Should we watch another movie?” Adam suggested carefully. “Maybe get something hot to drink?”

Blaine shrugged listlessly.

Adam decided to take that as agreement.

“Now, me, I like a nice cup of coffee at the end of the day - I know, you were expecting me to say tea, didn't you?"

There was a pause, but then Blaine nodded, rolling over and looking up in puzzlement.

"Well, I can't say I don't like a good cuppa," Adam confided, "But I'm a complicated man. I have layers."

Blaine *giggled*, there was no other word for it, and Adam blinked for a moment, taken aback.

"like an onion?" Blaine asked, and oh, Adam knew what had set Blaine's fit of laughter off.

"Yes," Adam agreed, "like an onion. or like an ogre," he added, poking at Blaine's side to make him squirm a little. "Lots of layers."

Blaine giggled some more, clearly delighted with Adam's willingness to play into his joke.

"And what about you? What would you like to drink? Some of that warm milk Kurt's always going on about?"

Blaine nodded, face growing solemn again. Adam could see his grip on the toy tighten.

"Up you get, then," Adam said, pretending not to notice how Blaine had gone quiet and withdrawn again. He couldn't make Kurt come home any faster, but he could at least continue to provide a distraction. "Can't make our drinks from the couch, now can I?"

Blaine followed Adam to the kitchen, Mister Bear held tight as he watched Adam silently. It was mildly disquieting - mainly because Adam had never seen Blaine this quiet, in all the time he’d known him. Even earlier, when he’d been watching Adam cook, he’d still been  _engaged_ .

_He misses Kurt, that’s all_ , Adam told himself firmly.  _He just needs distracting_ .

Having started the coffee for himself, he got the milk out of the fridge to start it heating. He was interrupted by a startled gasp from behind him, making him whip around in concern to see Blaine looking aghast.

“That’s  _Kurt’s_ milk,” Blaine said, sounding appalled.

Adam … didn’t know what to say to that. “Okay,” he said slowly, opening the fridge again to put the milk back.  _What on earth_ -

Oh.

Adam put the milk away and picked up the soymilk instead. “And this is Blaine’s milk, I take it?” He looked at Blaine for confirmation.

Blaine nodded. “uh huh.”

Adam nodded back thoughtfully. Come to think of it, Blaine usually got soy lattes when they all went out for coffee together, didn’t he?

He turned back to the stove.

“Kurt puts ‘nilla in,” Blaine said from behind him. “An’ cinamininonin.”

Adam bit back a laugh at the mangled pronunciation. “Well,” he said after a moment, once he was sure he could hide the amusement in his voice, “I’m not Kurt, so I’m not sure I’d be able to do that properly. Could we try something else?” He thought back to what he’d seen in the fridge. “Maybe add some chocolate syrup?” He glanced at Blaine to gauge his reaction.

“I like choc’late,” Blaine said after careful consideration.

Adam took that as a yes.

“Mister Bear likes choc’late too,” Blaine piped up from behind him, surprising Adam with his sudden willingness to anthropomorphize the toy he’d pretended so hard not to want. “So maybe you should put extra in an’ make it extra choc’lat-y?”

Adam tried really hard not to start laughing, but it was hard, listening to Blaine’s transparent attempt at slyness.

“I think maybe we could manage that, yes,” He said, focusing hard on the milk he was stirring in an attempt to keep a straight face. “Why don’t you go pick out the next movie while I finish up here? I’ll come join you as soon as our drinks are ready.”

Blaine didn’t say anything to indicate agreement, but Adam could hear the patter of his feet heading back toward the living room and a rustling that sounded an awful lot like someone going through a pile of DVDs.

Satisfied that the soy milk he’d be heating had had enough chocolate syrup added to make the most chocolate-loving of men (or stuffed bears) happy, Adam started getting out mugs for the both of them. About to start pouring Blaine’s milk into one, he hesitated, remembering the near miss earlier with the soup. Blaine was even  _more_ \- Adam didn’t quite know how to describe it, not really -  _childish? young? vulnerable_ ? - whatever; he was just  _more_ now, and Adam had a feeling he’d have an even harder time not spilling now than he had before.

Putting the pot back down, he fixed his own drink first, to give him more time to think. Just as he finished stirring in the cream, inspiration struck. Of course - why hadn’t he thought of it before?

 

***

 

Coming into the living room, Adam saw the menu for  _Fantasia 2000_ on the screen and couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at Blaine, sitting on the couch. “Not the original?” He asked, curious.

Blaine shook his head, eyes wide. He hugged his stuffed toy. “Mister Bear gets scared,” he explained matter-of-factly. “This one is better.”

Somehow, Adam had a feeling it wasn’t  _Mister Bear_ who found the movie frightening. He didn’t say anything, though, just waited for Blaine to re-situate the toy before handing him the travel mug he’d found.

Blaine frowned a little, looking from his thermos to Adam’s mug and back as Adam joined him on the couch. “How come you got a real mug an’ I don’t?”

“Only clean one left,” Adam lied easily.

Blaine accepted this reasoning and scooted closer, leaning against Adam’s shoulder as he started to drink.

Adam was glad he’d thought of the thermos. He was pretty sure they’d  _both_ have already been covered in hot chocolatey soy milk if he’d given Blaine a regular mug.

Feeling a little smug, he started the movie.

Blaine fell asleep halfway through. He’d only asked when Kurt was coming home a handful of times, and had just sighed resignedly at Adam’s repeated  _Not just yet, love_ , which Adam was counting as a win. He’d finished off the milk pretty quickly, trying to scam another one out of Adam with the reasoning that since he and Mister Bear were sharing, it was only right that they got  _two_ mugs.

Adam had had to bite his tongue pretty hard to keep from laughing at that one. Luckily, Blaine had taken Adam’s refusal with a great deal more grace than any of his nieces or nephews would have - although still with just as much pouting. He  _had_ tried to pull the  _but Kurt always_ card, but had folded pretty quickly at Adam’s sternly skeptical look.

 

(“Really?” He’d said dryly. “Kurt always lets you and Mister Bear have  _two_ cups of hot milk?”

Blaine had squirmed a little, not meeting Adam’s eyes. “Maybe not  _always_ ,” he hedged. “Maybe jus’ sometimes.”

“Maybe just sometimes?”

Blaine had squirmed some more. “Maybe - maybe jus’ once in a while?”

Adam had just raised an eyebrow and waited. Sure enough, a moment or two later Blaine had deflated entirely, looking shamefacedly at his toy.

“Maybe not at all,” he’d admitted, never looking up.

Adam had nodded. “That’s what I thought.”)

 

Adam thought about turning off the movie once it was apparent that Blaine was well and truly out, but he didn’t want to chance the sudden cessation of sound waking the man. Besides, it was hardly a hardship to have the film playing in the background, not with that soundtrack.

He was glad he’d left his own bag close enough to the couch to be able to get into it without wiggling around too much - Blaine had decided to use him as a pillow again. Propping his feet up on the coffee table and checking again that Blaine was still safely asleep, Adam started reading the next chapter of his book. Might as well get his reading assignment done while he had the time, after all.

He had to rescue Mister Bear a few times when the toy fell from a sleeping Blaine’s lax hold, but other than that, Adam read without interruption for the next hour or so - long enough for the movie to restart itself, anyway, and God bless Disney autoplay.

It was near midnight when he finally heard the apartment door open.

“In here,” Adam called out softly, trying not to wake Blaine.

The footsteps paused, then started again, and Kurt came around the corner. “Adam, what -”

He broke off suddenly, taking in the scene, and Adam realized again the strange picture they must make - Disney on the TV, coloring books and crayons on the floor, and two full-grown men on a couch amidst it all - one curled up fast asleep in the other’s lap with a stuffed bear clutched tight.

Kurt was frozen, mouth working as he clearly tried and failed to find something to say. “I can explain,” he finally said, and the look on his face was the same sort of scared Blaine had had when Adam first walked in on him, mixed with a sort of fiercely protective defensiveness that was all Kurt.

Adam held up a hand to cut him off. “You don’t need to explain,” he said, and meant it.

He didn’t know what all this was about - why Blaine’d been acting so differently, why there were so many children’s toys in an apartment rented by two grown men, what on earth was so special about Thursday, of all days - but he did know it didn’t matter. Not really. Maybe it would be nice to get some answers, just to satisfy his own curiosity, but he didn’t  _need_ them. He already knew the most important things about it, after all - that it was private, that it was special, that it was something between Kurt and Blaine and it was important to them - and what else would really matter?

“If you ever want to talk - either of you - I’m happy to listen, but don’t ever feel like you have to explain.”

Kurt took a hesitant step forward, looking uncharacteristically unsure of himself. “Is he…?” His voice trailed off.

“Fast asleep,” Adam said, glancing back down at Blaine again. “Has been for a while now.”

Kurt bit his lip, but came over to crouch down next to them. He reached out and gently brushed Blaine’s curls back out of his face.

“He was a bit upset earlier,” Adam said quietly. Kurt looked up, frowning. Adam gave a half-shrug. “You having to stay late threw him, I think,” he said. “He wasn’t expecting it.”

“I sent him a text,” Kurt said, somewhat helplessly. “He should have gotten it right after class, I don’t know why he didn’t.”

“His class got cancelled.” Adam shifted slightly, trying to keep his leg from falling asleep. “He hadn’t checked his messages yet when I got here.” He hesitated for a moment, then went on. In for a penny, in for a pound, after all, and it seemed like something Kurt should know. “It looked like he’d been -” _what word should he use?_ “ - playing,” he settled on, “ for a while.”

Kurt closed his eyes, nodding in acknowledgement after a moment. “I see,” he said, opening his eyes again. He paused, and Adam could see he was debating whether or not to say what came next. “Thank you,” he said finally. “For -” he made an awkward little wave at Blaine and the room.

Adam wasn’t quite sure what  _exactly_ it was Kurt was thanking him for - for keeping Blaine company, for making him dinner, for accepting whatever this thing of theirs was without asking questions, or for something else entirely - but it hardly mattered. Regardless, his answer would have been the same.

“Anytime.”


End file.
